


Seeing double

by orion_killer_of_stars



Category: Once Upon a Time (In Space) - The Mechanisms (Album), The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:07:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25505665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orion_killer_of_stars/pseuds/orion_killer_of_stars
Summary: Cinders and her thousands of identical wives. That's it, that's the fic.
Relationships: Cinders/Rose (Once Upon A Time In Space)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 73





	Seeing double

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Sandra, who lets me text her absolute garbage.  
> Also to Tumblr- which is filled with enablers.

Cinders first notices that something is wrong- or at least _off_ \- a month into her search.

She’d been surprised on a Cole-controlled planet by a lone Rose Red, probably on patrol. Which isn’t the weird part- the weird part is how the clone just _isn’t doing anything_.

“Rose?” She says tentatively. She doesn’t think they're _her_ Rose, but she doesn’t understand why the clone isn’t moving. She’s seen Rose fight, if the clone wanted her dead, by now, she would be.

No response.

She’d seen the clones, of course. The thousands of faces that where so Rose and yet so, horribly, dreadfully _not,_ that it made her insides twist.

But this was her first face to familiar-face that she had ever had.

It's worse up close.

Still, the clone just _stares_. It raises its rifle, then lowers it again, then raises it- again- then-

It throws it to the ground with an almighty _clang_.

By the time Cinder’s brain has reconciled with the fact that she’s still alive, the Rose Red is gone.

And there ends her first encounter with the enemy.

________________

Cinders continues searching in that sector of space- wondering if her Rose is close, and thus affected the clones' behaviour. It’s a crack theory, but it’s the strongest lead she’s had in weeks, so she combs through maps and local testimonies with a renewed energy.

It’s not the only weird behaviour she’s seen.

She wonders if its simply something wrong with the air-filters, or the environmental controls, that is making everyone on this planet act slightly crazy. 

For starters, She doesn’t see another Rose Red for the entire duration. Not one. The absence is perhaps more suspicious that their presence.

Then, every day for a whole week, she gets flowers at her door. Why, how, who- these are all questions she can’t find answers for. Attempts to wait for the mystery flower-giver end up in uncomfortable naps and broken cameras, asking the hotel staff leaves confused stammers and scared whispers, and even the flowers themselves hold no clues.

She inspects them, of course, careful of hidden traps or bombs or toxins.

The flowers just sit there- suspiciously.

When she starts finding little gifts left in the military bases she’s investigating, she decides this is way past what she wants to deal with, and promptly ~~flees~~ tactically retreats from the planet.

________________

She meets up with General White- which is a very interesting reunion- and the rebellion, when they accidentally take her as a prisoner of war whilst liberating Old York.

Being back on a Battleship is both immensely comforting, and incredibly lonely. It’s a week before they see any action- and even then, the action is _weird_.

It begins one morning, when Cinders wakes up, gets ready, and heads out to the bridge to reconvene with General White. When she gets there though, the atmosphere is fraught with tension.

Outside the bridge-windows are five massive Battleships, each painted with the colours of King Cole’s battalion. Rose Red battalions.

It is worse than her worst nightmares. She had no idea King Cole had made this many clones- they easily outnumbered every single neutral planet- let alone the rebellion. Stationary, they hung in space, Giant carnivorous bats waiting for the cue to sweep in and feast.

The bridge crew seems to share this opinion, with the chattering and troubleshooting taking a much higher pitch. The battleship they were currently occupying was half full- meaning every passenger had to take up at least three jobs each. How they would ever be able to combat against a fully stocked battleship- let alone _five_ \- was a mystery.

Worse still.

_ Worse still.  _ Cinder’s would have to face the clones, in a combat setting. Whatever ‘flaw’ had saved her last time, she doubted it would have been widely held. And she honestly- truly- didn’t know if she would be able to kill these not-Roses. Would she be able to look into the face she loved, the face she’d seen cry, and smile, and blush- and make a killing blow?

Maybe she’d just go lock herself in a supply cupboard until it was over.

Beside her, tall and imposing, stood General White. Cinders still wasn’t used to the branching dissecting scar taking up half of her face, or this new fire in which she addressed war- where she had only ever called for peace. White needs it now though. Rose Red was her sister- her twin. If Cinders is finding this nigh-impossible, she wonders how White feels, having to strike down copies of the face that has literally accompanied her for her entire life.

A request for transmission lights up the screen.

“General?” the communications officer says hesitantly.

“Patch them through” she replies, voice cold as ice.

The holograph that flickers to life is not at all what Cinders was expecting.

It illuminates a Battleship bridge- similar to the one Cinders was standing on. Except this one is covered in blood. Well, that’s what Cinders assumes it is- in the washed-out blue light, it's only clear that some dark liquid is coating the screens and chairs that make up the command centre.

In the middle stands Rose.

Objectively, Cinders knows that this isn’t _her_ Rose.

Her brain doesn’t register that though- all it sees is the eyes of her beloved.

“Can they hear us?” The Red soldier asks. The exact same voice echoes an affirmative. She turns to face the projector.

“This is RR: 510A, Designation-”

She pauses, eyes flicking to something out of screen “Captain, of the Battleship FTR Rosenrot. We, and the other four ships of our entourage- would like to declare unconditional surrender”

The proclamation is met with silence.

Absently, Cinders notices a separated human arm lying in frame, behind the Captain’s chair.

General White opens and closes her mouth. Finally, she speaks.

“I was informed that General Fluch was in charge of Rosenrot”

The arm is slowly dragged out of frame.

“He is currently indisposed.” The Rose Red says with a small, not very nice, smile.

General White drags her eyes from the movement in the background to look into her pseudo sisters’ eyes. A moment of tense consideration, then-

“We accept your surrender”

The Rose Red smiles a much nicer smile, then disconnects the call. Suddenly there are hails from all the Battleships stationed around them, sending numbers of crews and food supplies and weapon capabilities. The analytics of the battleships come spiralling across the screens- The FTR Butcherbird, the FTR Hunter, the FTR Asheputtel, The FTR Bear, and last of all, the FTR Rosenrot- each with corresponding colours, symbols and crew numbers.

The Rebellion has gone from two hundred to two thousand.

There’s an almost frantic silence as the bridge crew attempts to come to terms with this event. The question of false surrender hangs heavy in the air- though General White seems to be ignoring it.

They begin to read through the received information.

“There’s, something wrong with these lists,” says the analytics adviser, frowning. “I just can't put my finger on it”.

General White leans over her chair, black hair falling over her shoulder. She scans the numbers intently. Quietly, White lets out a small _oh._ Suddenly Cinders sees it too.

“There’s no non-clones”.

Whilst the clones were still allowed places of authority, every battalion was overseen by a natural-born officer. These analytics though. spoke of a complete lack of non-Rose Reds- and explains the Captain’s disappearance.

There has been an army-wide mutiny.

________________

Suddenly the battleship is full.

Around every corner are Rose Reds- talking, laughing, and existing, much to the rebel crews dismay. Officially, they have boarded to discuss the logistics of surrender.

Unofficially,

Well. That’s the problem. No one’s really sure _why_ the Rose reds where so insistent to be on this ship. In fact, there are rumours that there were so many applicants that the Rose Reds had to hold an unsanctioned random lottery to see which soldiers they would send.

Cinders, for one, is baffled.

Where once she was lonely- now she is the complete opposite, whatever that is. She can’t _breathe_ without a Rose Red being nearby.

She sits down, and she gets offered a cup of tea, a book, a blanket, and maybe a massage? Or some calming music?

And whilst the constant attention is at least slightly enjoyable for someone who has been alone for so long- it is mostly jarring.

And confusing.

________________

She gets her answers less than a week later.

General White had called a council of her most trusted advisers- and, also, every single Rose Red on board. Needless to say, the war room was rather packed.

General White frowns- though Cinders could see that gleam in her eyes that meant she was at least a little amused. Standing up, she begins.

“The general theory is that the clones-” a Rose Red towards the front makes a small noise of protest. General White looks at her with the facial expression only a sibling can master. 

“Sorry. The _additional Roses_ , all have a base genetic memory- meaning they will have the same reaction to stimulus as the original, as they never went through the normal growth process to develop reactions naturally.”

“Meaning,” starts Red Hood

“Meaning,” General White says, louder (and meaner) “that they all feel the same way towards you as my sister does.”

Oh, Thinks Cinders. _Oh._

Well, she supposes she did ask for an explanation.

A Red Rose leans forward and sighs dreamily

________________

There are around a dozen Rose Reds, all looking around in that faux I-don’t-care manner, which Cinders knew really meant I-really-care-about-this-but-I-don’t-want-you-to-see-my-weakness. They held a brown cardboard box between them, as they silently tussled with who was going to be the primary carrier. As two left the main group to fight it out, another swept in and presented it to Cinders with maniacal glee- with the rest of the Rose Reds attempting to peer over her shoulder.

Hesitantly, Cinders opens the box.

Inside the box lay,

Well, Cinders wasn’t quite sure _what_ it was.

Brown and misshapen, slightly charred on one side, it resembled a large brown pancake. On the top was what she assumed was paint- though the colours ranged from an unappetizing green to a rather alarming shade of orange- finished off with white lettering.

The Rose Red carrying the parcel grins happily. She has a fine white powder over her face, which Cinders is alarmed to realise is icing sugar. _Oh dear_ , she thinks, remembering the couple’s day incident of ’93.

Rose had always been an _awful_ cook.

“We thought it would be nice- well, I mean-” Two Rose Reds start to talk at the same time, then turn to glare at each other with identical faces.

Another Rose Red to the side confirms her worst fears.

“We baked you a cake” She says, softly- then turns a frightening shade of red when Cinders turns to look at her.

Cinders looks back down at the ‘cake’.

Yep, the side was _definitely_ burnt. The writing had begun melting already, making the already jagged and messy front almost illegible. To make matters worse, the letters went large to bunched up in turns, where the writer obviously ran out of space.

_ No wonder she always typed me letters,  _ thinks Cinders with affection.

The writing reads

“Sorry for trying to kill you.

(And all your friends)

(And your sister-in-law)

Love, Rose

-s”

Cinders stares at it in mute wonder. 

“Thank you?’ She says, questionably, but when she looks up all the Rose Red’s have vanished. (Except for the two fighting- who were apparently unaware the cake had already been delivered)

The Cake tasted like a cross between candle wax and scrambled eggs, and quietly found its way into the waste disposal. 

Oh well, is the thought that counts.

________________

Somewhere underneath New Constantinople, in a decimated throne room, Rose Red opens her eyes for the first time in a long, long time.

The first thing she sees is her beautiful wife staring back at her.

Behind her she sees,

Well.

“Honey,” She says hoarsely.

“Yes, dear?” Cinders says, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. The look on her face is frighteningly open.

“I think I have severe head trauma.”

Cinders lets out a laugh, which quickly turns into wracking sobs. She surges forward and grabs Rose in a hug, bundling her into her chest as if she can protect the 5.7 woman with her body alone.

Rose holds her hands awkwardly, slowly lowering them as she remembers how to respond. Still, her eyes roam over Cinders shoulders.

“I’m serious Cinders. I’m seeing doubles. No, triples. Is there a word for more than a dozen hallucinations? Because I’m doing that right now.”

The Rose Reds in the room look at her with varying emotions. Most seem pleased, a few envious, a few with unabashed glee. They roam around the room, helping resistance soldiers, applying first aid- and a notable group attempting to play soccer with King Cole’s decapitated head.

General White stands off to the side, waiting for the couple to separate.

Seeing her sister in the flesh- her original, memory holding sister- hits her in the place between her ribs where her heart should be. It was as if all the pain, the hatred, the freezing cold rage that had made her destroy every mirror in sight, was melting away in the face of her twin.

Maybe this time, there can be a happy ending.

________________

Red Hood is sitting criss-cross on a bench chair. The fact that said chair is balanced precariously atop a table doesn’t seem to be phasing her. Rose looks questionably at Cinders, who whispers,

“She likes feeling tall”.

She’s gesturing and speaking a-mile-a-minute, with her signature red cloak bunched around her like a blanket. In one hand she holds a cup of unknowable origin- which she narrowly avoids spilling on her not-so-captive audience every time she gestures- and in the other, a datapad with scrolling blue text.

A crowd of Rose Red’s watch with varying degrees of interest. A few are playing cards- though Cinders can see they all have their left eyebrow slightly higher, Rose’s tell-tale sign she’s cheating atrociously. One Rose Red is even sitting on the table, looking all the world relaxed, except for the way she tenses every time Red Hood gestures just a little too enthusiastically and her chair starts to wobble.

Red Hood seems to be passionately arguing- even though no one appears to be responding.

“I have no idea how King Cole thought this was going to work! I mean, how could you make all these copies, have them go through no adjustment time, and expect them to be completely functional _and_ extremely loyal? Did he not realise that they would have to have some form of translatable memory in order to fight and read and speak? I mean, even walking requires memory! That has to come from somewhere!”

General White listens bemusedly, locking eyes with Cinders. They both share a brief moment of _this kid, huh?_

Cinders suddenly remembers a night, once, many years ago, where she and Snow had talked about the possibility of having children. She looks back to Red Hood. Back to General White.

_ Well _ , she thinks, amused.

Rose boils the kettle, preparing -on autopilot- one black coffee, and one milky cup of earl grey tea. As she works, she speaks.

“Well, I’m just glad this happened. I mean, could you imagine the alternative? An endless war dragging on forever, Cinders lost and alone whilst I’m stuck in a freezer, thousands of people dying, and then all of us dying in a cathartic but tragic climax scene in which we manage to defeat King Cole, but all get vanquished in the process?” She turns around, cups in hand.

Everyone stares at her in silence.

“Whatever you say, dear heart” Replies Cinders, accepting the cup of coffee.

________________

Epilogue

“Wait,” Tim says, hesitantly. “Wasn’t there meant to be a war?”

Around him the sounds of children playing, people bartering, and general hum-drum that seemed to follow humanity- regardless of where they settled- could be heard.

Very distinctly _not_ a war.

Jonny frowns.

“Oh come on! I had a new gun I was waiting to try”

Nastya elbows him in the ribs.

“Look” she says,

It takes a moment, but suddenly they see what has this sector feeling so _off_.

The barista on the corner café has the same face as the woman attempting to help a child off the sea-saw.

And now it's been noticed, they can see that face everywhere

Chatting with a few other copies of itself.

Selling fruit.

Reading a book on a park bench.

For every ‘normal’ person they see, there’s two of these copies, carefree, integrated, and living out their lives in peace.

As the rest of the Mechanisms disperse, maybe to restock the ship- but more likely off to cause trouble-

Nastya smiles. 

And they all lived, happily ever after.

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> So, there are parts of this that feel okay, but more of them that honestly feel unfinished. there are probably more areas that could use expanding- but honestly, I just wanted to post this.  
> how do the relationships progress? Thats up to you-  
> Though I feel that the of Rose Red and Cinders have a second wedding, one without gate crashers and they invite every single rose red to be their bridesmaids/flower girls. Rose Red isn't jealous that this entire army is in love with her wife, and cinders makes it clear shes just with Rose. After all, these clones are all literally like one year old, so they have a whole lifetime to move on. 
> 
> Anyway, so concludes another episode of shitty crack au that took up too much of my time. (It was very fun) Maybe one day I'll make a sequel from the rose red's point of view, which would just be "oh my god look pretty woman". Like, a whole fic dedicated to the entire army descending into gay panic. Or maybe the rest of the rebels trying to cope with the fact that all these roses turned because of one woman? Idk. We'll see.


End file.
